


He Ain't Heavy

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Fíli had to carry Kíli, and the one time he just wanted to.</p><p>From the kink meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I: Injured

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was: Anything where Fíli is carrying Kíli bridal style  
> Found here: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/7346.html?thread=17362098#t17362098

Fíli smiled as he followed his brother through the trees. It was nice to see Kíli happy and confidant, sure of his own actions and not second-guessing himself. Mama kept saying he would grow into his own, that he would learn what voices deserved his attention and what voices he should pay no mind to, that as he grew older and his accomplishments became evident his confidence would grow as well.

But for now, it seemed, Kíli was only really happy when the two of them were off together, away from all others, sparring or hunting or making mischief or just being together. It did warm Fíli that his brother trusted him so, and enjoyed his company, but he hated to see the light go out of Kíli’s eyes when they were around others and someone made a comment about his bow, or his lack of braids, or his too-big eyes and too-small nose. The worst was Uncle Thorin, who to his credit never made any complaints about any undwarven traits, but would focus on the reports from Balin and Dwalin, and generally had an endless list of improvements for Kíli to make. He did the same with Fíli, but Kíli, it seemed, was more sensitive.

Fíli’s mind was snapped back to the task at hand when Kíli grabbed his arm, hissing at him to remain silent. There was a deer ahead of them, a good-sized buck that hadn’t noticed them yet, and Kíli sent an excited look to Fíli, already moving to draw his bow. Fíli held very still and did not make a sound as Kíli lined up his shot, but the wind shifted and the buck startled, catching their scent, just as Kíli released. The shot still hit, but instead of crippling or even killing the buck, it only wounded him, and he bolted.

Kíli took off after it. “C’mon,” he shouted, “It’s hurt, we might be able to catch it!”

Fíli followed Kíli eagerly, catching up quickly and running side by side with his brother. He loved the exhilaration of a good chase, the adrenaline and joy of running, the triumph of catching the quarry. And there was really nothing better or lovelier than seeing Kíli proud of his own success at the end.

But that was not to be today. Fíli was so caught up in the chase that he nearly missed it when Kíli went down. It was his brother’s yelp of surprise that caught his attention, and he skidded to a stop and hurried over to Kíli, who was half-lying on the ground at an awkward angle.

He looked up at Fíli, embarrassed. “It’s my ankle,” he said, sounding resigned. “Stepped in a hole, I think.”

Fíli crouched down and looked over. Kíli’s foot was still stuck fast in what looked to be a rabbit hole, and when Fíli reached out to shift his foot he hissed in discomfort. “You’re stuck pretty well,” Fíli said finally, “and I think your ankle might be sprained. Here, hold still, I’ll try to be gentle.”

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Kíli said with a strained laugh. Fíli snorted and focused on freeing Kíli without causing him further pain. After a few long moments he managed it.

“Can you stand?” Fíli asked, and helped Kíli to his feet. But when Kíli tried to put weight on his injured foot, he cried out and would have toppled over if not for Fíli’s arm. “Let me help you,” Fíli said, aiming for no-nonsense. He seemed to have achieved his goal, for Kíli willingly enough allowed Fíli to pull his arm over Fíli’s own shoulder, while Fíli wrapped his arm around Kíli’s torso for more support.

But they managed about three steps before it became quite obvious Kíli was in too much pain to continue. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, “It’s my knee. I landed on it badly when I tripped.” And he looked so shamefaced that Fíli didn’t have the heart to scold him for trying to hide his injuries.

With both Kíli’s legs injured, Fíli had no choice but to carry his brother. With no warning, he stooped and lifted Kíli, one hand under his knees and the other arm going around his back. Kíli yelped and grabbed on to Fíli’s neck.

“What are you doing?! Put me down!” Kíli yelled.

Fíli winced. Could his brother not see his ears were _right there_? “How are you planning to get home then, hmm? You certainly can’t walk.”

Kíli had no answer, and merely turned his head away from Fíli and huffed. Fíli smirked, and walked on in silence. Slowly, the tension left Kíli’s body as he relaxed into his brother’s arms, laying his head on Fíli’s shoulder.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled after a few minutes had passed.

“For what?” Fíli responded, keeping his voice low.

“Being a burden,” Kíli said softly, so softly Fíli almost didn’t think he’d heard right for a moment.

“You’re not that heavy,” Fíli said, trying to break the tension with a weak joke.

“You know what I mean, Fee,” Kíli said, sounding tortured. “I can’t do anything right. I’m rubbish with the axe, and in the forge, and just with _whatever_ I do. I’m a _failure_ of a dwarf. And I thought I could do this one thing, that I could at least help Mama and Uncle by bringing in food, that I could spend time with _you_ without you having to look after me, and I just…I _can’t_.” By the end of his tirade against himself, Kíli was crying slightly and looked miserable. Fíli’s heart went out to his baby brother.

“That’s not true,” Fíli answered softly. “Kee, you have to know that’s not true. You’re not rubbish. You’re not a failure. And I don’t think you’re a burden.” Kíli laughed a bit derisively, and Fíli continued, “Please don’t listen to those fools in town. They don’t know you, they have no right to judge you. And I should think my opinion would be worth far more than theirs, and I think you’re a fine dwarf. Even if you never grow a beard and your nose gets no larger, you have honor, and pride, and the steadiness of our race in your bones. You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of.”

Kíli sighed, but nestled closer to Fíli, and as Fíli made his way carefully through the woods, he heard his brother whisper a soft “Thank you.”


	2. II: Drunk

Fíli smiled as he watched Kíli trounce two other dwarves at darts, despite the fact that he himself was already far into his cups. It was good to see him confidant and happy. It was good to see him laughing with others, though there was a small, selfish part of Fíli that missed being the only one that could make his brother laugh.

Kíli had come a long way in the past few years. He still had not much beard to speak of, and his nose was still on the small side, but he had filled out a bit, and more importantly his attitude seemed to have changed entirely. He no longer sought to hide from those who made snide comments, instead meeting them head-on and shaming them into silence. It had won him admirers, especially among the younger generation—their generation, Fíli supposed, though the two of them had always stood apart—though Fíli was heartened that Kíli still preferred spending time with his brother to any of them.

On the other hand, it did mean that nights like tonight were possible. Nights where they both went to the tavern and enjoyed themselves, where they might drift apart throughout the evening and enjoy the companionship of others, but where they would return home together, just the two of them, to the cottage where their mother would be already asleep.

Fíli took a hurried gulp of his ale, trying to distract himself from dangerous thoughts. He struck up a conversation with the dwarf next to him, an acquaintance from the training grounds, pulling his attention away from the way Kíli shook his hair back as he laughed, the curve of his wrist as he threw the dart, the light in his eyes as he took on another challenger.

They passed another two hours in this manner, Kíli getting passed more drinks the more he won, and Fíli chatting with friends at the bar. After the third time Fíli caught his gaze drifting over to Kíli, his thoughts not entirely brotherly, he decided it might be better if he didn’t have any more to drink. He had no wish to press his self-control.

Kíli, however, had no such need for restraint, and by the time the tavernkeeper was turning them out his baby brother was having trouble keeping his feet. Fíli chuckled and tucked Kíli under his arm to steer him home. The warmth of Kíli’s body pressed against his made him glad he’d decided to cut himself off earlier.

“Oof. D’you have a good time, Fee?” Kíli slurred.

Fíli couldn’t help the grin. “Yeah, Kee. I saw you winning at darts tonight. You have fun?”

Kíli gave him a dopey smile. “Mm-hmm. You shoulda joined me,” he whined slightly. “I missed you.” He tried to nuzzle against Fíli, but ended up headbutting his brother’s jaw.

Fíli snorted. “C’mon, little brother. Time to go home.” But while Kíli _seemed_ willing enough, he apparently could not make his feet move forward. He kept dragging and stumbling, and eventually Fíli realized he was left with two options: he could drag Kíli home, or he could carry him.

Well. That wasn’t really a choice. So without warning, he swung Kíli up into his arms, holding him cradled against his chest. Kíli squawked and flailed a bit, but managed to avoid hitting Fíli in the face. He compensated by grabbing at Fíli’s neck with an iron grip, nearly strangling him.

“Not so tight, Kee,” Fíli gasped, shifting his grip under Kíli’s knees and on his back so he was more secure.

“S’rry,” Kíli muttered, ducking his head. He went silent for a while, and Fíli assumed that the combination of what he had drunk and the rocking motion of the walking had lulled him to sleep. But then a plaintive whine broke the silence. “Fee?”

“What is it, Kíli?” he murmured in response.

“Fee, I love you,” he said, surprisingly urgent. “I love you sooo much.”

Fíli couldn’t help but smile. True, Kíli was generally an affectionate drunk, but normally that can through in his actions, not his words. “I love you too,” he said indulgently, pointedly not thinking about how he wished he could mean that sentiment.

“No, no, but I _love_ you,” Kíli insisted. Fíli’s heart pounded. Could he possibly mean…? But Kíli was drunk. It was normal for him to get oddly insistent over the strangest things when he was drunk. He’d once nearly come to blows when another dwarf had not admitted quickly enough that Thorin Oakenshield was the most majestic dwarf he’d ever set eyes on.

And Fíli was torn out of his musings by their arrival at home, where his concentration was taken up by the problem of how to get inside with his arms full of his baby brother. In the end, he had to prop a giggling Kíli—and he really was giggling, no matter how he’d deny it when sober—next to the door while he opened it, and then swept him up into his arms again.

This time Kíli was immediately affectionate, snuggling into his chest as Fíli carried him to their shared bedroom, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake their mother. They made it without causing her to leave her room, and finally Fíli was able to put Kíli down on his own bed.

He fell to removing his brother’s boots and coat, not helped at all by Kíli apparently deciding to go limp. But he was smiling at Fíli, with an adoring and slightly maudlin look on his face, and Fíli felt affection surge through him.

“Y’take such good care’a me, Fee,” Kíli said, eyes starting to water.

Fíli managed not to roll his own eyes. So they were at the over-emotional stage. “Of course I do. I’m your brother,” he said, turning to pour a cup of water and pressing it to Kíli’s lips. “Here, drink this,” he instructed, holding it steady as Kíli obeyed. “Might make you slightly less miserable tomorrow,” he added, stroking Kíli’s hair back for a few moments. Kíli’s eyes closed under the ministrations, and Fíli thought he’d finally fallen asleep. But when he tried to pull away and move to his own bed, Kíli’s eyes flew open and he latched on to Fíli’s arm.

“Stay?” Kíli asked plaintively, eyes wide and pleading. Fíli hesitated, torn. He wanted to—if he was honest, he wanted to far too much—but they were really too old for sharing a bed.

“Please?” Kíli begged, tears beginning to form again.

Fíli caved. “All right. Only for tonight,” he said, kicking off his own boots and shucking his coat, but leaving the rest of his clothes on. Better safe than sorry.

Kíli’s face lit up, and as soon as Fíli was under his blanket he latched on to him, laying his head on his big brother’s chest and curling into his side. “Thank you, Fee. Love you,” he said happily, finally drifting off.

Fíli sighed and wrapped his arm around Kíli’s shoulder. “Love you too, little Kee,” he said softly into Kíli’s hair, allowing his own eyes to drift closed as he too succumbed to sleep.  



	3. III: Sick

Fíli watched surreptitiously as Kíli closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his temple. His little brother had seemed a bit unsteady all day, and Fíli was worried. They were both helping in Thorin’s forge, and a dangerous accident was a very real possibility if Kíli wasn’t careful.

So Fíli was watching and standing nearby when Kíli suddenly went stock still and collapsed, and he was able to grab his brother’s falling body before he hit his head on anything. His surprised shout drew Thorin and Dwalin’s attention, and the two of them hurried over to where Fíli crouched with Kíli half on his lap.

Kíli was already coming around, and seemed flustered and embarrassed. His face was red, and he started to struggle away, out of Fíli’s arms. Dwalin, seeing Kíli wasn’t dead, turned back to his work and let Thorin and Fíli deal with things.

“Sorry, sorry, just a bit lightheaded,” Kíli mumbled, but when Fíli got a closer look at his face he frowned. Kíli’s eyes weren’t focusing right, and while his cheeks were flushed the rest of his skin looked far too pale.

“Kíli, sit still,” Thorin commanded. He glanced up at Fíli, who read the unspoken command in his gaze and wrapped his arms around his brother, immobilizing him. Thorin reached out a hand to Kíli’s forehead, frowning, as Kíli whined that he was _fine_ , that Fíli should let him get back to work.

“Fever, I think,” said Thorin, cutting through Kíli’s complaining. “How long have you been feeling ill?”

“M’not ill,” Kíli said querulously. It _might_ have been more convincing had he not addressed Thorin’s left ear. “S’just a headache.” Fíli frowned. He didn’t like the thought of Kíli suffering through a headache all morning in the forge while they worked on a fairly large order. And apparently a fever on top of that.

Fíli looked up and met his uncle’s eyes. “I’m taking Kíli home,” he said, daring him to protest.

Thorin held his gaze, but nodded. “Try to make it back this afternoon,” he said gruffly. “We need this order done.”

Fíli gave a sharp nod, gathering Kíli up into his arms and calling his goodbye to Dwalin. Kíli, meanwhile, was not happy about this turn of events.

“Fíli, put me _down_. I can walk, and I’m not going home!”

“You can hardly stand,” Fíli pointed out, quite reasonably he thought. “The last thing we need is for you to fall and add injury to illness.”

Something in his words seemed to finally get through to his stubborn brother, because Kíli subsided. But he still felt tense in Fíli’s arms, and he turned his head away so that Fíli couldn’t see his face. Fíli groaned inwardly. If he let Kíli really get into a sulk, he would be impossible to deal with. So, distraction.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were sick, Kíli? We wouldn’t have made you come in if we’d known.”

Kíli mumbled something indistinct, and Fíli frowned. “I couldn’t hear. Won’t you face me when you talk?”

So Kíli lifted his head, and Fíli’s heart broke a bit at the tears in his eyes that he wasn’t letting fall. “We needed to finish that order. It’ll tide us over for a week at least,” he whispered, voice sounding strained.

Fíli bit his lip and made sure to pitch his voice low, unconsciously holding Kíli tighter at the evidence of his pain. “It’s not worth your health, Kíli. It’s not worth _you_.”

Fíli winced at Kíli’s bitter little chuckle. “Thought I was done being a burden, but still you end up carrying me,” he said, apparently ignoring Fíli’s words.

“I’m happy to do it,” Fíli answered, determined to get through to his brother even if he had to beat the words into his head. “I’ll always help you, Kíli, whenever you need it. Just as I know you’ll always help me. And the only reason I’m not dumping you on your arse for wallowing in self-pity is because your brain is clearly addled by illness.”

That at least surprised a short laugh out of Kíli, closely followed by a groan as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’ make me laugh,” he said, voice slurred with pain. “M’head hurts.”

Fíli bit his lip, abruptly flooded with guilt. “Sorry,” he offered softly, and they continued on in silence. But at least now Kíli was more relaxed, not stiff and thrumming with tension.

They found their home deserted—unsurprising, as mother would be out at the workshop of one of the artisans that allowed her to do extra work to make more money—and Fíli made short work of getting Kíli as comfortable as possible.

“Try to sleep. It’ll make you feel better,” Fíli said, making sure Kíli was settled on his bed. “I’ll be back at the forge, but one of us will get away to check on you this afternoon.” He hated leaving Kíli alone while he was sick, but they did need the money desperately.

“Fíli—” Kíli started but cut himself off.

“What is it?” Fíli asked, voice pitched low.

“It’s nothing,” Kíli said, avoiding his eyes.

“Do you want me to stay?” Fíli guessed, knowing he was right by the way Kíli tensed again.

“You should get back to the forge. Uncle needs you,” said Kíli.

“I told you before. You’re more important. If you need me, I’ll stay,” said Fíli, trying to catch Kíli’s eyes.

Kíli finally looked up and offered him a crooked smile. “Food is also important, and we won’t eat if you don’t finish the order. I’ll be fine.”

Fíli took in the lines of tension and pain around Kíli’s eyes and the hectic spots on his pale cheeks, and decided not to press the issue. “Promise me you’ll sleep while I’m gone, all right?”

“Promise,” Kíli agreed, lying down and preparing to sleep. Fíli smiled a bit and ducked in to press a kiss to his temple.

“Sleep well, Kee,” Fíli said, turning away to head back to work.

“Fee? Thank you,” Kíli called after him.

Fíli paused at the door. “For what?” he asked, turning back to look at his bedridden brother.

“You always take care of me,” Kíli said softly, ducking his head and blushing a bit. He always had been ashamed of needing help.

And Fíli wanted to say it was because Kíli was the most important thing in the world to him. He wanted to say that he could never want anything more out of life than to stay by Kíli’s side forever. That he loved Kíli more deeply than he had ever or would ever love another.

“You’re my brother,” he said. It was close enough.

And as he left the room to allow Kíli to rest, he didn’t see the disappointment and resignation in Kíli’s face.


	4. IV: Sleeping

A King’s name-day feast ought to go on for days, with ale and mead flowing freely and enough food to stuff an army. There should be music and dancing, with people dressed in their finest clothing and decked out in jewels. 

But while the settlement in Ered Luin might have become more prosperous in recent years, Thorin was not yet rich enough to provide such a celebration. Oh, there was food enough that no one went hungry, and drink enough to go around, and music provided by the guests themselves, but overall Fíli did not think it quite lived up to the stories he had heard of the great feasts of Erebor.

On the other hand, Fíli was fairly certain Thorin actually preferred the more subdued party. He was doubtless a bit bitter about the loss of munificence, but with Thorin that was more an essential part of his personality by now. But while he would accept accolades with grace when he knew he had earned them, he disliked having a great deal made over something so trivial as his name-day.

And if he were honest, Fíli was fairly certain that even if he had experienced the great feasts of Erebor, he himself would still prefer their more humble celebrations. He _liked_ the intimacy of knowing everyone present, the easy camaraderie and the feeling of being part of a community.

Fíli also rather enjoyed how Kíli’s face lit up with joy as he joined in the singing, how he laughed as he danced, and how, at the end of each day of celebration, he would gravitate to Fíli’s side and sit quietly with him as they watched their people enjoying themselves.

Fíli’d already tired of the constant motion and excitement and staked a place out near one of the firepits. He grinned as he watched Kíli dancing, whirling about in the torchlight and laughing, switching partners constantly.

Kíli tired at last of the dancing, and Fíli watched as he fetched two mugs of ale and looked around. Fíli smirked and raised an arm, waving. Kíli’s face lit up and he trotted over, handing Fíli his ale and throwing himself down next to him.

“Enjoying yourself, brother?” Fíli asked, amused.

“Mm-hmm,” Kíli answered, drinking deeply from his mug. “You?” he asked when he came up for air.

Fíli chuckled. “Oh, well enough,” he said. They sat in comfortable silence while they finished their drinks. As he was draining the last of his ale, Balin’s voice caught his attention, and he glanced over. Their old tutor looked to be retelling some of the more entertaining bits from their history classes, so he elbowed Kíli lightly in the side.

“Interested in a story, little brother?” Fíli asked, indicating Balin.

“If y’like,” Kíli agreed easily, getting to his feet once more.

They settled on the edge of the group that had gathered around Balin, sitting on one of the long benches set next to the tables. They shifted around a bit, getting comfortable, and settled in to hear recounted the tales of the heroes of the past.

Fíli smiled and leaned back against the table, listening to Balin’s story. He wrapped his arm around Kíli as his little brother scooted closer, nearly pressed against his side. They sat for a long time, listening to the rise and fall of Balin’s voice. Slowly Kíli’s head drooped until it was resting against Fíli’s shoulder, his weight coming to rest against Fíli’s side. Fíli smiled slightly, figuring Kíli had nodded off.

Eventually Balin finished his tale and the group dispersed. Fíli nudged Kíli, figuring it was time to rouse his brother and head home. But Kíli refused to wake, only letting out one of his snuffly little snores and rubbing his cheek against Fíli’s shoulder. Fíli rolled his eyes but smiled fondly, reaching over to poke Kíli in the ribs as he softly called his name. But again, no response.

“Wore yourself out, did you?” Fíli said softly, knowing he must be wearing an unbearably soppy look. “Well, no help for it then.” And he carefully maneuvered Kíli around so he was more or less in Fíli’s lap, making it easier to scoop him up as he stood. Fíli paused for a moment, waiting to see if Kíli would wake from the movement.

But Kíli just murmured indistinctly and nestled closer, curling his hand into Fíli’s tunic. Fíli picked his way carefully out of the hall, nodding to the few dwarves who noticed him on the way and getting several tolerantly amused looks in return.

The night was quiet when he made it outside, everyone either still celebrating in the hall, where the food and ale was free, or already in bed. Fíli made the short walk to their cottage in unmolested silence. And there was no one around to see if he stole a few too many glances at his brother’s face, relaxed and serene in sleep.

It was getting harder to keep it hidden. It felt like every day it got more difficult to stay silent, to allow things to keep on the way they always had. They were getting older; Fíli already had heard a few stray comments asking whether there were any young lasses that had caught his eye, and he knew everyone had expected him to already have started the flirtations common to young dwarves of his age.

And he dreaded the day Kíli started noticing the looks he had begun to get. When he was a bit younger, his confidence and easy good humor had won him friends; now those traits won him admirers. And it was hard enough watching others look at his brother with covetous eyes now, when Kíli still sought out Fíli first in every room he entered, still gravitated towards Fíli over all others. How much more difficult would it become when Kíli realized he needed more than just his brother as his constant companion?

As if sensing the maudlin turn of Fíli’s thoughts, Kíli released a heavy sigh in his sleep, shifting just enough to jerk Fíli’s attention back to the present. There was no use in worrying over eventualities. Kíli would grow up, and they would grow apart. Fíli knew there would never be anyone else for him, but he also knew he could never stand in the way of Kíli’s happiness. So he would keep his mouth shut and allow Kíli to pursue whoever took his fancy when the time came.

When they arrived home Fíli carefully removed Kíli’s boots and put him to bed. He smiled at the protest when Kíli left his arms, and kissed his baby brother’s forehead, the chaste affection allowed between brothers. That would have to be enough. Fíli would _make_ it enough.


	5. V: Poisoned

Fíli ran for Thorin and the opening in the rock he stood over, making sure to keep behind Kíli so he could watch his brother’s back. He wasn’t sure how the two of them had managed to fall so far back, but he sorely regretted it now. A quick scan of his surroundings and he knew at least the other members of their Company seemed to have gotten to safety already, so it was just his immediate family in danger of their lives now. He ran faster.

It wasn’t until Kíli had nearly made it to Thorin that it happened. Fíli heard his little brother’s cry of pain, and the world stopped. He closed the short distance between them in an instant—a small part of him noting with relief that Kíli hadn’t even lost his footing, it couldn’t possibly be too bad—and grabbed Kíli’s arm, pulling him along the last few steps. He’d look at it, assess the damage, as soon as they were safe.

“Go!” Thorin roared the moment they came in arm’s reach, shoving Kíli down into the darkness and Fíli after him. And as soon as Fíli hit the bottom and worked out which way was up, he was at Kíli’s side, hand on his arm.

“Were you hit? What happened?” he demanded, frantic and terrified. Kíli’s hand was clamped over the side of his neck, and Fíli could see the blood. His breath came in short bursts as he fought back the panic.

“It’s all right, I’m all right,” Kíli gasped, reaching out with his other hand to grab the back of Fíli’s neck, forcing his brother to look him in the eye. “Just a graze, Fee, I’ll be fine.”

Fíli tipped forward a bit, resting his forehead on Kíli’s shoulder for a moment. “Thanks to Mahal,” he breathed, finally relaxing. His joints felt watery as he released the tension that had been strumming through him, and he leaned on his brother. Kíli indulged him in the half-embrace for a moment, but they parted easily enough now that they were both safe and assured of one another’s well-being.

As Thorin argued with Gandalf over where they had ended up, Fíli set to work cleaning the scratch on Kíli’s neck. It was an ugly-looking thing, but thankfully not too deep. Already the bleeding was stopping. They didn’t have enough time to clean it, but Fíli managed to extract a promise from Kíli to wash it out with soap when they arrived at this elf-lord’s halls.

Finally Thorin seemed to give in to the inevitable, and they set off. The two brothers walked shoulder to shoulder, still craving the reassurance of closeness after their first brush with battle. They carried on in comfortable silence, listening to Thorin’s grumbling about elves and meddling wizards, until the younger opened his mouth.

“My throat feels odd,” Kíli complained.

“You’ve gotten it scratched by an arrow, Kíli, it’s bound to hurt,” said Fíli, heart hammering anew from the close call. The barest inch to the side and it would have gone straight through his neck.

“No, that’s what’s odd. It’s gone all numb.” And now Fíli noticed Kíli’s voice sounded a bit odd, harsher than normal. Fíli’s brow furrowed in concern.

Kíli’s words also seemed to catch the attention of their resident wizard. “May I?” he asked, already tilting Kíli’s head to better see the wound.

Gandalf examined the scratch for a long moment, then pressed his hand over it and mumbled something Fíli didn’t understand. Judging by the discomfited looks on the faces of the rest of the Company, he wasn’t alone in his ignorance.

The wizard’s eyes snapped open abruptly, and he pulled away from Kíli, letting Fíli slip next to him once more. “It is poison,” Gandalf intoned, looking at Thorin. “If we do not seek help he will be dead in hours.”

Fíli’s legs very nearly gave out, only catching himself when he felt Kíli’s weight slump against him. He quickly pulled Kíli into an embrace to keep him upright. The rest of the world ceased to exist as he stared at his brother’s pale face, meeting his widened eyes. He wordlessly slipped his hand into Kíli’s, squeezing gently, trying to impart strength and comfort while reassuring himself that Kíli was still here, that there was still a chance.

“Fíli!” Thorin’s shout broke into Fíli’s shock. But he looked understanding when Fíli refocused his attention. “Gandalf says our… _host_ might be able to save him. But it will take some time yet to get there. We need to move.”

“Right,” Fíli said, starting to help Kíli regain his feet. But his actions were halted by the wizard.

“Moving about will only hasten the spread of the poison,” Gandalf warned. “He will need to be carried.”

“I will take him,” Fíli said immediately. He steadfastly ignored the offers of help from the rest of the company, though he gave up his pack and Kíli’s willingly enough to Dwalin and Bofur, and was vaguely aware of Thorin hurrying the rest of the Company along. He pulled Kíli from his feet and gathered him up to his chest, encouraging his brother to loop an arm around his neck.

“Would it not make sense to carry me on your back?” Kíli asked, tone long-suffering. Fíli only shook his head mutely, not able—nor really willing—to put into words how much he needed to see Kíli’s face, to be able to watch his chest rise and fall. To be able to see if something changed, if his brother started to slip away.

Kíli chuckled weakly, apparently unsurprised. “This does bring back memories, though. You’re always having to lug me around,” he said. “M’sorry.”

“Shut up,” Fíli answered, starting off after the rest. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? I don’t mind it. Now just…just rest, all right? Everything’s going to be fine.”

Kíli offered him a small smile, and they lapsed into silence as Fíli walked, following the rest of the Company.

But then Kíli’s breathing started getting labored. Fíli swallowed hard. They were already going for help as fast as they could; screaming for his Uncle to come and fix things wasn’t going to do anything. So he just quickened his steps and held on all the tighter as Kíli started to gasp for air.

Fíli watched without calling out for Thorin or Gandalf as Kíli’s skin slowly went paler, as the clammy sweat broke out, as his pupils enlarged until the warm brown was entirely covered. It was almost enough for him to regret not carrying Kíli on his back and saving himself from the sight. Almost. Because though Kíli’s eyes may have gone a bit unfocused, they were trained on his face. And his hand was clenched in Fíli’s jacket like he’d never let go. So if their position was giving Kíli the slightest bit of comfort, then he would endure watching his brother slowly die in his arms.

Fíli was far more concerned with watching Kíli’s progress to be impressed when they first caught sight of their destination—he was vaguely aware of Gandalf and their burglar saying something about the last homely house—and he merely focused on making sure he didn’t drop himself and his brother off the cliff. His heart lightened slightly. They were almost there; there was still a chance.

And then his world came crashing down on the threshold of the elven house. Kíli stopped breathing.

“Kíli?” Fíli called out weakly. “Kee, please, please no, please Kíli.” Thorin had turned. Gandalf was coming over quickly. “Please, please, baby brother, please. Don’t…you can’t…please, you have to breath, please, I need you.” Gandalf was leaning over the two of them—when had his legs given out?—and had a hand over Kíli’s chest, muttering strange things again. “Please, please Kee,” Fíli said, voice breaking, “I can’t do this without you.”

And as Gandalf pulled his hand away, Kíli took a great, shuddering breath. Fíli went entirely limp, barely raising a protest when Gandalf took Kíli away from him, promising Fíli would be allowed to follow soon. Fíli just sat where he was, lost to the world. His uncle came close, and pressed Fíli’s face to his shoulder. Apparently that was all it took. Fíli broke down sobbing, overwhelmed by nearly losing his Kíli.

When he finally pulled himself together, he found he and Thorin were in the center of a defensive circle, and there were elves waiting in a ring around them.

“My lord Elrond bade me welcome you,” one of the elves said—a dark-haired one without armor. “You are invited to dine while you await news of your companion.”

Fíli stared at him, uncomprehending, even as the rest of the Company seemed eager enough to follow. How could he be expected to _eat_ while he was still uncertain of his brother’s life? He lagged behind the others, finding to his surprise that Thorin stayed at his side.

“Fíli is the brother of the dwarf who was poisoned,” Thorin said to the elf gruffly. “Escort him to the infirmary so that he need not wait for news.”

Fíli shot his uncle a grateful look even as the elf spluttered that he couldn’t, he didn’t have the authority—

“It was not a request,” Thorin growled, glaring at the elf, even as Fíli shot him a pleading look. Thorin squeezed Fíli’s shoulder even as the elf allowed that they might stop by briefly, so as not to disturb Lord Elrond.

In short order Fíli found himself following the elf through strange halls, far too open and airy for Fíli’s liking. They arrived shortly at an open archway, through which Fíli could see another tall, dark-haired elf bending over a small figure in a bed. _Kíli_. Fíli was so focused on staring that he did not notice Gandalf approach.

“Lindir,” the wizard said, “I will take responsibility for Master Fíli, here. Elrond will not mind his presence.”

“As you say, Mithrandir,” the elf—apparently Lindir—responded, and left with a palpable relief.

“Your brother is doing well,” Gandalf said softly to Fíli. “Lord Elrond believes he will make a full recovery.”

Fíli swallowed hard, feeling something that went beyond relief. “Can I stay?” he asked, eyes never leaving his brother’s form.

“I very much doubt I will be able to make you leave,” Gandalf said with a chuckle, leading Fíli to a chair near Kíli’s bed.

Fíli sat and watched as the elf—Elrond—tended to his brother, and then stayed as the elf and Gandalf left. He sat there for hours, watching Kíli and thinking. Kíli had not yet grown apart from him, had not yet found a lover as Fíli had been so afraid he would. Fíli had no delusion that this indicated Kíli shared his feelings, but still. This quest was dangerous, they both knew that when they agreed to go, but Kíli nearly dying had made him truly _understand_ it. And his heart ached at the thought that his lovely, wonderful brother might die never knowing how well he had been loved. If he were honest with himself, he knew he would regret it as well if he should die himself without ever telling Kíli of his feelings.

So it was decided. When Kíli awoke, Fíli would tell him everything, and if that meant things between them were broken so be it.

Fíli had his newfound resolution tested when Kíli actually started to stir, but he held fast to his conviction. He was going to confess.

“Fee?” Kíli croaked when his eyes finally focused.

“I’m here, Kíli,” he said, leaning forward and taking his brother’s hand, smiling when Kíli squeezed.

“Wha’ happened?” Kíli asked, looking around a bit, obviously not entirely awake yet.

“You were poisoned by an orc arrow, remember? The elves healed you,” said Fíli, unable to tear his eyes from Kíli’s face.

Kíli’s eyes seemed to focus a bit more. “Right. You carried me, didn’t you? Again.”

“Yes,” Fíli said, not liking Kíli’s tone, “and you know I’ll always do it. Whenever you need.”

Kíli dropped his head on his pillow. “I don’t…I don’t want to need it. I don’t want to be a burden on you, someone you need to take care of. I want to stand with you, Fíli, not behind you.”

Fíli bit his lip. “You do stand with me, brother. I need you, more than I think you realize. You…you stopped breathing, you know, just as we arrived. I thought,” his voice broke, and he cleared his throat and continued as Kíli stared, “I thought I’d lost you. And I…I _can’t_ lose you, Kee. I love you.” And there, it was out.

“I love you too, Fee,” Kíli said, looking confused, and Fíli nearly groaned at the misunderstanding.

“No,” Fíli said, cutting off whatever else Kíli was about to say. “No, you don’t understand. I _love_ you. You’re the only one I’ll ever love or want, and I’m not expecting anything from you, but I needed you to know because I don’t want one of us to die without every saying anything.” He got it all out in a rush, not stopping for breath, and sat there shifting uncomfortably as Kíli stared. “Please say something,” he asked weakly.

“I thought I was the only one,” Kíli said, wondering. And while Fíli sat there trying to wrap his mind around that, Kíli sat up and kissed him.

As kisses went, well, it was fairly chaste, and Kíli was a bit weak still so it was slightly off-target, but it was Kíli. And it was wonderful.

When Kíli fell back against his pillow again Fíli followed, leaning in and bracing himself on the bed. And when he kissed Kíli, at a better angle and a good deal less chaste, he couldn’t help the smile.

It was perfect.


	6. + I: Wedding

If Fíli remembered nothing else about this day, he wanted to remember how happy Kíli was. If he were so lucky as to live to old age without falling in battle, if he should live so long that his memories of youth faded, he wanted to keep this moment, to always be able to recall how Kíli’s face shone with joy as Fíli pronounced his vows, how ebullient his smile was as he said his own. He wanted to remember how Kíli laughed breathlessly as they kissed to seal the marriage pact, and the feeling of his hand in Fíli’s as they entered the great hall together for their wedding feast.

As it turned out, the celebration for a Crown Prince’s wedding—especially to another prince of Durin’s line—was much in the same league as for a King’s name day. The hall looked to be filled with every dwarf that had returned to the reclaimed and rebuilt Erebor, and at the high table Dwarven nobles from Ered Luin, the Iron Hills, and even further afield were waiting to offer their congratulations. The wine and ale were flowing like water already, and the tables were piled high with a feast the likes of which Fíli had never seen, not even for Thorin’s coronation.

But for all that Fíli had feared feeling alienated and alone in such opulent surroundings, he found that he couldn’t care less. The only thing that mattered was the dwarf by his side, and Kíli seemed eager to join in the festivities. Fíli was quite gratified to find that though there were many willing partners, Kíli wanted only to dance with his new husband. And for Kíli, he could summon the energy and the interest to dance all night if he needed.

Dancing _with_ Kíli was different from watching Kíli dance with others. It was much easier for the rest of the world to fade away as the two of them whirled together, much easier for Kíli to become the entire focus of his attention, and much, much more heady to be the focus of Kíli’s. Though he could, perhaps, admit that might be because he was ridiculously in love with Kíli and not because of the dance.

Of course, dancing was hardly the only activity he wished to partake of with his husband on his wedding night. As the evening wore on and more and more of the guests overindulged in drink, food, and merriment, the looks between the newlyweds grew more and more heated.

Kíli was the first to break, pulling Fíli from the room by his hand, much to the catcalls of the dwarves still aware of their surroundings. Their hurried walk back to their quarters turned into a run, and then a race, and finally a chase with Kíli in the lead.

Fíli caught Kíli just a corridor away from their door, and swept him up into his arms, abruptly remembering the times he had carried his brother in just this way. Kíli seemed to read his mind.

“Trying to bring back memories, brother?” Kíli teased, sliding an arm around Fíli’s neck. A bit of wickedness slipped into Fíli’s mind.

“Well, it is traditional,” he said, trying desperately to suppress a smirk.

“Oh?” Kíli said, suspicious.

“Aye. It _is_ called a bridal carry, after all,” Fíli said, unable to hold back his laughter. As he had expected, Kíli didn’t take it well, kicking out and trying to twist away, making Fíli pause while he tried to keep him in his arms. “Peace, peace! The floor is hard stone, I’ve no wish to spend our wedding night in the infirmary because you’ve cracked your head open.”

“Put me down then, Fíli, I’m not your _bride_!” But he did at least cease his struggles.

“Of course not,” Fíli soothed, starting forward once more. “You’re my husband.” But he really couldn’t resist teasing him again. “My husband who took the bride’s role in our wedding ceremony.”

“You _ass_! Kíli shouted, punching him in the shoulder. “You _know_ I only let you speak first because you’re older! That’s it. Put me down. We’re going to find Balin and do the ceremony again, and this time _you_ can be the bride.”

Fíli tried to hold back the laugh, he really did. He wasn’t _successful_ , but he tried. “All right, all right. My apologies, you’re not my bride. And we’re not getting married _again_. I’m fairly certain Balin’s too drunk by now to remember the ceremony anyway.” But Kíli was in a sulk now, and Fíli felt a bit guilty. He shifted him a bit closer, and nudged Kíli’s temple with his nose. “Please don’t be cross, I was only teasing,” he said softly.

Still no answer. He was beginning to be worried that he had truly offended Kíli, had managed to ruin the night for them both, when he saw the corner of Kíli’s mouth twitch. “You little—you’re having me on, aren’t you?”

Kíli laughed and wrapped his arms around Fíli’s neck, shifting closer. “Had you going, didn’t I?” Fíli smirked in response, acknowledging the hit. “But truly, Fíli,” Kíli continued, sobering, “I’m _not_ your bride. Nor your wife.”

Fíli snorted. “Good. If I wanted a bride, I’d’ve married one. I married _you_. I want _you_ , whatever you want to be called.”

Kíli smirked. “Husband will do nicely, I think,” he answered as he leaned up to kiss Fíli. And, well, that took up enough of his attention to require him to stop once more, lest he run them both into a wall.

They broke away from each other, after what felt to Fíli like an eternity and far too short a time, both laughing slightly between their panting. “You,” Kíli said, “need to get us into _our_ bedroom.”

“Yes sir,” Fíli answered, unable to help the grin stretched across his face. For all they had been sharing a bed in practice since they finally cleared out the living areas, it felt good to abandon the pretence of separate quarters.

Fíli managed the last few steps without further incident, and was momentarily stymied by the door. Kíli snorted and leaned to open it himself, and with an air of resignation allowed Fíli to carry him over the threshold.

“Still not your wife,” Kíli muttered, kissing him again.

“So long as you’re mine,” Fíli answered, kicking the door shut behind them.


End file.
